The Storm
by sparki111
Summary: When the storm arrived, it was already too late. Because Loki knew that he was different. From the very beginning.
1. The Storm

**Hey people! So, I was watching Thor the other day, and then I couldn't sleep. So, as I lay awake listening to the rain, I had the idea for this fanfic. All I ask, is that, as you read, you **_**attempt **_**to NOT picture young Loki from the film. So NOT the character I was trying to create.**

**I don't own anything. All rights to Marvel.**

_**~ Storm Fear ~**_

_When the wind works against us in the dark,__  
__And pelts with snow__  
__The lowest chamber window on the east,__  
__And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,__  
__The beast,__  
__'Come out! Come out!'-__  
__It costs no inward struggle not to go,__  
__Ah, no!__  
__I count our strength,__  
__Two and a child,__  
__Those of us not asleep subdued to mark__  
__How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-__  
__How drifts are piled,__  
__Dooryard and road ungraded,__  
__Till even the comforting barn grows far away__  
__And my heart owns a doubt__  
__Whether 'tis in us to arise with day__  
__And save ourselves unaided._

_**Robert Frost, 1913**_

**-O-**

The darkness was so very heavy. With each passing second, it seemed to grow more and more solid. Almost, as though one could reach out a hand and grasp it in one's fingers. Even the purest moonlight, shining through the polished window, could not penetrate its bulk.

_But that is ridiculous. No one can catch the darkness. No more than you can catch water, or a beam of sunlight. _

With a sigh, Loki rolled over in his bed. Tonight, the feather mattress felt hard beneath him, its stuffing uneven. Every way he turned, there appeared to be another lump he had not yet discovered. Outside, the sky hung, foul and ominous above the slumbering city. Thunder rolled in the distance, and Loki felt certain that the coming storm would not pass by as swiftly as the last.

And yet, he found himself wishing for rain. The young god was yet to find something as soothing as the patter of rain against the palace's roof. A lullaby from his mother, perhaps. As a younger child, he may have ventured forth from his chambers in search of her. However, Loki now knew better that to go wandering around the palace halls at night. Besides, he doubted even a song of Frigga could send him off now.

With a sigh, he sat up in his large bed. His nightshirt felt hot against his body. His thin arms shone looked pale in the dim light. Yawing wearily, he pushed his raven hair back from his forehead. As he did so, a spot of red sitting atop his finger caught his attention. Narrowing his emerald eyes, he brought his hand closer for inspection. In the darkness, his blood shone bright red. Loki frowned. He must have sliced the tip earlier that day. Wounds on fingertips were the worst, he had discovered, because every time he went to touch or grasp something, the wound would open once more. With another sigh, the boy placed his slender finger to his lips.

As he sucked away the blood, Loki felt his icy skin nip at his warm tongue. He was quite used to his body's temperature – or lack thereof – however, even after all his years of being alive and frozen, he simply could not understand how he could feel so very warm inside, and yet, in reality, his being was as cold as a Frost Giant's kiss. He pulled the icy finger from his mouth. The metallic taste of blood lingered upon his tongue. With a small smirk, he gazed once more at his minor injury.

_At least my blood is warm._

Thunder roared, a sound so soul splitting that the very night seemed to hold its breath. Loki, startled, jerked up from beneath his blankets. However, reassured that the roof remained steady above him, he relaxed back onto the bed.

For a long while, he lay still, eyes shut, unmoving. But still, sleep continued to elude him. Behind his closed eyelids, images danced, hazy and dull. He longed to open his eyes and dispel the mirage-like shapes, but he so desperately craved the peace sleep would bring.

Eventually, he allowed his eyes to flicker open. The canopy that stretched above his head seemed so far away. Absently, he lifted one long arm. It hung, suspended in the darkness, before falling back to his side. Defeated, Loki sat up once more.

Despite his cold body, he felt his cheeks flush. Slowly, he swung his legs to the ground. The rug beneath his toes felt unnaturally soft. Yawing again, he climbed to his feet. His head spun from the sudden movement.

After making completely certain he was not going to collapse, Loki took the hem of his nightshirt. In one swift movement, the prince pulled it from his back. Twirling it once through the air, he let it sail from his hand, and land in a crumpled heap, by the gilded mirror he so despised.

It was not the mirror itself that he hated. It was a nice mirror. Its golden frame sparkled bright, even in the darkness. The path of the carved flora was beautiful to follow. No, the mirror was fine.

It was what stared back at him that he hated so. Hesitantly, Loki stepped forward.

No longer shrouded by shadow, the young prince stood, clothed in nothing but the moon's shine. In the pearly pale light, he looked more like a phantom than a solid creature. His exposed skin glowed white, a stark contrast against his inky locks. His emerald eyes appeared almost serpentine when compared to the blue of his brother's.

Like all other Aesir, Thor would surely grow to be strong and golden. Already, the eldest Odinson was far heavier than his brother, and, Loki supposed, much stronger as well. However, Thor still carried with him the softness of boyhood.

Despite his young age, Loki was lean. His slender frame stood tall and poised, and possessed a natural elegance that his sibling could never dream of achieving.

As Loki gazed morbidly at the spectre who haunted him through the crystalline glass, he noticed something strange. Something new.

A prompt bruise sat upon his neck, just above his collar bone. It appeared like an inkblot against very pale parchment. Stepping closer, he peered at the mark. It was small, and in a different light, he imagined, unnoticeable.

As Loki peered at it, he knew it was far too blue to be a bruise. Its shade resembled that of a berry. Tentatively, he pressed his wounded finger against his tainted skin.

_No pain. Just ice._

Scowling, Loki dropped his hand. With slow, deliberate movements, he took a step back, and then another. With each inch, he retreated into the shadows. As he turned, he caught one last glance of himself in the mirror.

"Who are you?"

**-O-**

The storm grew steadily throughout the night. In his chamber, Thor slept soundly, safe and secure, wrapped up in his dreams of fighting foes and leading quests and the wonders of the Realm Eternal.

Peaceful. Untroubled.

Unaware, that in the very next room, his brother lay awake, all night long.

Unmoving. Unblinking.

He lay silently, staring into the darkness.

Outside, the first raindrop fell.

**Hope you liked it. Reviews make me smile **


	2. Does The Monster Cry?

**Hey guys. Now, although I said this originally was to be a one-shot, there has been a change of plan. I have decided to continue this little monster. However, it's not going to be a long fanfiction, so don't worry : ).**

**Special thanks to ****wayaway91** **and** **PetiteElefant**** for being my sole reviewers.**

**Sparki: I own nothing!**

* * *

Pain.

_Darkness. All around him is darkness. Darkness, so deep that he cannot find the courage to muster a breath._

Pain. Oh, so much lovely pain!

A mirror. A broken mirror. Shards of splintering glass rain down upon him, a silver storm of glinting blades. Cold. Uncaring. Aimed at his heart. He raises his arms, shields his face. But they pierce him all the same.

_In agony, he screams._

Yes. Cry. Scream! But none shall hear you.

The shards, buried so deep in his pale skin. He tries to pry them free, but they burn with a frozen fire, a flame that sears his heart in two.

Do you bleed, boy? Does the monster bleed?

A monster, in a mirror. A shattered mirror. Cracks rake across its glinting face, like a spiders web, reaching for its victim. Dark drops fall from the carnage. They crash upon the floor, echoing a faint cry as their tiny bodies are broken. Shaking, he looks at his hands. His pale, pale hands, stained with crimson.

_As he watches, the monster falls. Destroyed. Consumed by the shredding glass and the creeping darkness._

Hmm... cry. Cry, boy.

Does the monster bleed? Does the monster feel?

Does the monster cry?

-O-

"Was it... the nightmare again?"

Loki closed his eyes. To his surprise, the darkness he found was comforting. It consoled his tormented mind, and offered peace; an escape. Unbidden, he gave a small sigh. If only sleep would offer such a reprieve.

The night was cold. Although the storm's age had drawn to a close, it had left in its place a bitter wind. This wind, it seemed, never slept. Day in and day out, it raked its frozen fingers through the city's air, riddling the streets with an unshakeable frost.

Loki knew it was cold; he had watched as many a breath turned to mist before his very eyes. But try as he might, he could not feel it. While others huddled by flickering fires, their shivering bodies wrapped in hides and fur, he stood, alone in the winter's wake. The frost bit at his skin; it tore and savaged any part of his being, left uncovered. Yet he felt no sting.

Does the monster feel?

Loki could feel the gaze of his brother resting upon his small back. Slowly, reluctant to leave the blissful nothingness, he turned away from his darkness. Waiting for his eyes to adjust once more to the shadow-like light, Loki gave a small shrug.

"Perhaps."

Thor stood not far from the doorway. Even in the light of night, his tousled hair shone like spun gold. He was watching the younger boy, concern for his brother flickering within his blue eyes. Within his chest, Loki felt a pang of nostalgia. Despite his absolution, he longed for the time when he would simply run to his brother, and lose himself in the protection Thor's arms offered.

_Do not be stupid. He would not hold you, not now. Not even if you begged it of him!_

Loki looked away, ashamed of the anguish he felt. It was a time, long since passed. Sighing once more, he let his gaze wander. Far below him, the lights of the city glowed and glinted; flickering eyes smiling up through the darkness. Asleep, Asgard was peaceful, unworried. Safe in the knowledge that, while the Allfather watched over them, none who slumbered may come to harm.

Loki lowered his head. Would that his father were here, a witness to the boy's fear. Would he be ashamed, Loki wondered. Appalled at his younger son's utter weakness?

Would he even care?

The tears that stung his eyes, he willed away in anger. Feeling a hand upon his shoulder, he stilled his heaving chest. Beside him, Thor let out a breath that, it appeared, he had been holding for some time.

"Loki." His voice was gentle, and Loki could find no malice behind the older boy's words. "Brother, it was only a dream. It was nothing, but a terrible dream."

Loki fought to be strong. Truly, he did. But the weight of his brother's touch, and the weight of the fear he carried in his heart, was more than he could bear. In despair, he let his head fall.

"It... it was more...," The boy's voice faded into nothing. He took a long breath before continuing. "It was not just a dream, Thor."

Beside him, his brother frowned in confusion. "Whatever do you mean?" the older boy asked. Standing in the darkness, Loki felt once more the terror that was his nightmare reaching out with inky fingers, threatening to strangle him. He felt the pain of the shredding shards, heard the shriek of the monster as it fell, defeated before the ever-standing mirror. As the weight of Thor's hand upon his shoulder grew, Loki found himself suddenly infuriated by his brother's inability to understand. Chastened, he drew away, his body recoiling from Thor's touch.

"Just leave me," Loki sighed, gazing out over the slumbering city. The heat in his chest began to subside, and the night's stillness settled upon them once more. "I'll be alright."

For a time there was silence. Loki stood apart from his brother, his emerald eyes closed, waiting to hear the footfalls of Thor's retreat. But they never came. For his brother refused to leave. A flicker of annoyance flashed upon Loki's pale expression. But from where Thor stood, he did not see his brother's silent protest.

"Please come inside, brother," he urged. "You'll catch your death in this frost." As if to agree with the boy, a gust of wintery air chose at that moment to assault the open balcony. It blew Loki's dark cloak around his small frame, and toyed childishly with his raven locks. Despite himself, Loki smirked. "It is not that cold."

Thor blinked, incredulous. He himself stood shivering, even with his own cloak wrapped tightly around his person. He took a step forward, but stopped when another gust bit at his exposed skin. Yet the very same wind merely nipped at Loki's nose. He frowned.

_Does the monster feel?_

Loki turned away, but he found no escape from his thoughts. The heated anger and binding fear rose once more up through his being, burning his throat. It burst forth from his lips in an unbidden, undignified growl. In truth, Loki wanted to scream. Yet, this snarl was all he could muster.

_Yes, boy, scream. Howl and shriek and scream, like the monster that you really are._

_Please, _Loki begged the voice, _leave me._

_Ha! Fancy thinking that this monster was something you could run from, something from which you could escape. No. You __can never be free, not from me._

Please!

You _are the monster._

"No!"

His scream pierced the night's silence. With shaking hands, he gripped the balcony's stone, so tightly, his knuckles grew white. The laughter inside him grew louder and louder, that grotesque laughter that was not his own, but somehow longed to belong to him. He felt Thor beside him, felt his gentle hands reaching for his shuddering form. He heard his brother's soft words, saw his blue eyes, wide and frightened.

Thor was frightened of his brother.

_Eoten._

_Monster._

"Loki... brother, I-"

_Get away! _Loki hissed, in a voice that was not his own. _Get away from me! Let me be! Get away!_

* * *

For what seemed an eternity, Loki stood, his pale hands grasping the smooth stone. Its coldness felt like silk beneath his trembling fingers. Even after Thor had fled from his side, even after the wind had grown resigned and silent, the boy remained alone, gazing out with unseeing eyes, into the darkness.

"Perhaps... perhaps I imagined it," he whispered, his voice hollow, strange. "It was not real..."

But I am real.

A single tear ran down the boy's cheek. It trailed across his skin, and clung with desperate fingers to his small chin. Then, it lost its grip, and fell. As Loki watched, its tiny body crashed upon the stone with a sobering finality. Loki looked away.

Does the monster cry?

Hope you all enjoyed it. Reviews make me smile : )


	3. An Empty Chair At An Empty Table

**New chapter, lovely people. I really hope you are all enjoying the story, because I'm kind of enjoying writing it! **

**PetiteElephant: Just want to thank you again for your reviews. I read the new chapter of One Hundred Days – brilliant story!**

**Sparki: I own nothing!**

* * *

_Oh, you can't hear_

_Me cry,_

_See my dreams_

_All die,_

_From where you're standing,_

_On your own._

_It's so quiet here,_

_And I feel so cold,_

_This house no longer,_

_Feels like home..._

He'd not left his room. Not really.

Not since that night – so many moons ago, it seemed – when he had stood alone in the darkness, and the monster from his slumber had found him while in wake. In reality, it had been no more than three, sleepless, restless nights, but to the boy, it felt so much longer.

On the few occasions that he had ventured forth from the isolation of his chambers, Loki found himself lurking in corridors, and taking to the shadows whenever he heard someone draw near. His single destination remained constant; the library. Nowhere else did the boy dare to venture; for fear that the darkness would follow him there.

There was no darkness in the library. No, in the magnificent hall, only light and life resided. Knowledge waited around every corner, stacked neatly, row upon row upon row, reaching from floor to ceiling. Legends, lessons and scrawled secrets waiting to sooth a troubled soul. Often, more so of late, Loki had found himself wishing, with all his might, that his life were more like a tale he would find between the pages of a book.

The library offered a refuge; a reprieve from the darkness that haunted the boy every waking hour of the day. However, Loki could not stay in the library forever. Would that he was to remain there, it would not be long before his brother discovered him. The look of terror in Thor's eyes that night remained branded upon Loki's memory. He hung his head in shame every time the image reappeared within his mind. No, he was not yet ready to face his brother.

But in his chambers, the darkness reigned. The mirror, vast and never-ending, stared down at him with its all-seeing gaze. Even as it stood, unbroken, its gleaming glass looked cold and sharp.

Loki hated the mirror.

So much so, that he'd hidden it from his view. Taking the largest, darkest rug he could find, he covered the mirror. For days, the beast stood, shrouded in an inky black veil.

But even with its glassy glare hidden, still Loki could not sleep. For he couldn't forget the terror he'd felt that night, and the pain that had torn him apart as the shards rained down upon his body. He felt as though his mind were being torn apart, each and every time he closed his eyes.

And so, sleep eluded him.

* * *

He had missed the mid-day meal. Again.

So, when he once more failed to appear for the evening's meal, they had come searching for him. He sat silently upon his bed as one of his mother's many maids tapped quietly at his door. He stayed so very still, hardly daring to breathe, for fear of being discovered.

"My Lord?" The voice was soft, shaky. "My Lord, the... the Allfather has requested your... your presence in the dining hall."

Loki remained mute, listening to the servant's uttered request. It was the same maid who had been sent to retrieve him earlier that day. She was young – younger than he himself. He felt a twinge of guilt at forcing the girl to return to his father empty handed yet again, but he promptly pushed the sentiment away as the terror's that sharing the evening's meal with his family would surely bring. He settled back against his pillows, waiting for the sound of the girl taking her leave.

"Please, My Lord." The maid knocked once more. "Please, you... y-you _must _come. The... your father said I was not to return without you." The girl's voice sounded desperate. She was fearful of what awaited her should she fail in her task. Loki's guilt attacked him once more. Despite her silence, he knew that she was still waiting behind the locked door.

"My Lord?"

The boy crumbled. With a sigh, he swung his slender leg to the floor. He made nary a sound as he made his way across the room. Hesitantly, he placed a hand upon the polished wood. He heard shuffling come from outside. So long had he been silent, it took him several moments to find his voice.

"If they care so much," he began, "why have they not come for me sooner?" He knew it was unfair to place this query on the girl, a mere servant, but he was, despite his want to be alone, was a little hurt by his family's apparent lack of concern for him.

When the girl answered, her voice, although muffled by the heavy wood, sounded a deal brighter.

"They have worried about you constantly, My Lord," she replied. "Your mother – the queen, each day, she tells me to bring you food." Loki lowered his head, feeling suddenly abashed at the large portions he'd left untouched. It had not been out of spite; he'd simply not had the stomach for anything. All the same, he felt ashamed at his lack of gratitude for his mother's efforts.

"Your brother asks after you," the maid continued. "He wished to come himself to fetch you, many a time. But... the Allfather thought it best to... to leave you be."

In the darkness, Loki was silent. Silent as he had been for the last three days, thinking. As the stillness stretched, the girl cleared her throat, hoping to catch his attention once more.

"Please, My Lord!" she begged. "Please come to the meal. I... I cannot return without you. N-not again...,"

A part of Loki's heart, the part that remained unscathed by the incessant darkness, went out to the girl. He knew his father could be cruel, even more so when he was in a foul mood, as the boy was certain he would be. Placing one hand on each golden knob, be gave the heavy doors a great push. They creaked open, and flooded his darkened room with light.

For a moment, Loki was blinded by the afternoon's sunshine. He raised an arm to shield his eyes, and waited for them to adjust. Blinking, the world slowly sharpened into focus. He glanced down at the girl. She stood, staring up at his pale face, her blue eyes shining with a poorly disguised fear. Loki wondered how many had heard of his 'outburst'. He stomach dropped as the maid took a step away from him. Without a word, she bobbed down into a curtsy. Loki eyed her bowed head. The warm light turned her blonde head golden. As she rose once more, he noticed a dusting of freckles across her porcelain skin. She was a pretty girl, he noted. He wondered if he had ever laid eyes on her before. Most likely, he had, but had simply paid her no mind. Chastened, he cleared his throat.

"I... forgive me, for the delay," he offered. The girl looked at him in surprise. He smiled wanly. "I'm afraid, that... that I'm not myself." He waved a hand in the direction of the dining hall. "Let's away, I suppose."

The girl curtsied once more, before starting down the long hallway, peeking over her shoulder to see if he followed. Loki took a step, and then another, willing himself not to look back.

The journey to the dining hall seemed never-ending. The pair walked in awkward silence. Never before had Loki felt unease at ignoring servants. Perhaps it was his recent lack of company, but the boy felt the sudden need to break the silence.

"What's your name?"

The girl's head whipped around. She stared at him, startled. He watched her, hoping that his angst didn't shine through his eyes. After a long time, she stuttered, "A-Aila, My Lord."

Loki nodded. Ava turned away, paling, as though she feared he might strike her for speaking to him. But Loki simply sighed, and continued down the hall.

"I'm Loki," he offered. Aila looked at him strangely, her fear fading momentarily. "I...I know that, My Lord." Loki shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at his pale lips. The girl was still staring at him, her expression torn between confusion, fear, and a smile of her own. The silence that overtook them once more was softer, more comfortable. For the first time in many days, Loki felt at ease.

They had almost reached the hall, when Aila turned once more to the young prince. She seemed as though she wanted to speak, but each time she opened her mouth, the words refused to appear. Finally, Loki spoke.

"Yes?"

"My Lord...," the girl's voice trailed off, as she searched for the right words. "Why... why have you... well, why have you been h-hiding... for so long?"

Loki felt a surge of irritation and indignation. Fear flashed across Aila's young face. At her reaction, Loki felt his blood cool, and his heart slow. Tentatively, he shrugged.

"I've not been myself," was the only response he offered.

They now stood outside the great doors, and Loki's apprehension returned. He stood, rigid, all trace of contentment fading from his expression. Aila dipped low into a final curtsy.

"Good day, My Lord," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Loki watched as she hurried away, before turning once more to the great doors. Raising a fist, he banged to surface once, and then again. Slowly, as though of their own accord, the door creaked open.

**-O-**

Empty chairs at an empty table.

It might as well have been an empty table. For Loki saw only the smiles of strangers staring back at him.

Frigga beamed at him, but behind her cheerfulness, Loki saw concern and fear. His brother, sitting across the vast table from their mother, gazed at Loki with a look of joy and anticipation.

But his father remained unreadable. From where he sat, at the head of the table, Odin cast a steady gaze upon his youngest son. Loki felt his heart racing, and a wave of nausea rose up through his body. But his father said nothing. Frigga looked from Odin, to Loki. When neither moved, she flew across the room, and enveloped her youngest son in her arms.

Loki hid himself in her body, closed his eyes, and breathed her in. She didn't speak; she just held him until he stopped shaking, and was still. Only then, did she pull away. Frigga gazed down at the boy, her blue eyes warm and full of a love for him only a mother could possess.

After a moment, she left his side, and returned to her place by the table. Loki followed suit, and claimed the closest place he could see. Silently, he slid into the high-backed chair. All eyes were on him, but Loki felt as though their gaze pierced through him, as though he were not really there at all.

_An empty chair._

"I'm sorry that I'm late," was all Loki said. And so, the meal began.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Loki slept.

_You are nothing, boy. You are nothing to them, nothing to anyone. You are not even anything to yourself. See how they looked at you; see how they stared. Like they had never seen you before in their lives._

_Eoten._

_Monster. You monster._

When he woke, Loki wished he had never closed his eyes.

* * *

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	4. Kindle My Heart

**Hey guys! This chapter is a lot shorter than its predecessor, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief! This chapter is more or less dribble about the trauma going on inside Loki's young mind. Sorry if you don't love it.**

**Sparki: I own nothing!**

* * *

_Sometimes, I wish that I had a different life. That I was someone else entirely, so different from the person that I am now, we may not even be able to exist in the same eternity. _

_There are nights, when the hour is late, and I am finally free from the bonds of life, that I find myself wishing upon every star I can see within the vast expanse above, that I could simply close my eyes, and when I opened them, all the pain, and all the darkness would just... disappear._

_And it is in moments such as these, rare and far in between, that I catch a glimpse of myself. A glimpse of the person - of the boy - buried beneath the ice that seems to have frozen over my heart. I can see him sometime; inside, he still remains. But I have no way to reach him. So, most days, it is easier, and far less painful, if I simply pretend he does not exist._

* * *

As Loki sat upon the stone wall, he wondered if perhaps he was losing his mind.

It was easier for him to believe that he was. Bringing his knees to his heaving chest, he gazed down upon the darkened garden. The beautiful plants and flowers stood shrouded in shadows; the twisted trees were no more that strange silhouettes, looming against the night-time sky. From where he sat, they no longer seemed to very tall.

The wall was high – much higher, it seemed, now that he rested upon it. The dewy grass of the garden seemed very far away. However, Loki was no longer sure if he cared. For perhaps if he fell, he might feel pain. And perhaps pain might knock a little sense back into his muddled mind. Then again, if 'sense' had had any say in the boy's actions that night, he would not have climbed the wall.

The gardens near the princes' chambers were vast, and Loki would need not have taken such a trek as he had through the sleeping halls. But the gardens that grew outside the servants' quarters twisted and turned in a way that the royal gardens could only dream about. Besides, his own, more refined garden had no wall that he could so foolishly climb.

Unlike the higher gardens, this, the lowest was not private. Anyone was permitted to walk its path. So Loki should not have been so very surprised when a voice, young and sweet, broke through the night's silence. Upon the wall, the boy sat still, not wishing to be discovered at the late hour so far from his quarters. Far below him, a small figure, illuminated only by the pale moonshine, walked slowly, step by step, down the garden path. In the darkness, their golden hair glowed a ghostly gold. Loki leant forward slightly, straining to see the specter's face. But they turned away, so only their pale locks were visible.

But their voice, soft, gentle, rose above the darkness. Loki closed his eyes, and let the words wash over him.

_As the moon _

_Kindles the night__  
__As the wind _

_Kindles the fire__  
__As the rain _

_Fills every ocean__  
__And the Sun the Earth__  
__So your heart will_

_Kindle my heart__  
__Take my heart__  
__Take my heart__  
__Kindle it with _

_Your heart__  
__And my heart cannot be__  
__Kindled without you__  
__Your heart will_

_Kindle my heart_

Loki knew the song well.

* * *

One night, a dark night, so many years ago, it seemed, he had awoken, screaming and drenched in a cold sweat. All around him, the darkness crept ever closer, its wraith-like fingers reaching out the brush the little boy's streaming cheeks. Cowering beneath the bedclothes, Loki screamed again, his voice tight with terror. But even his desperate protest did not dissuade the shadows from closing in on the child.

All it took was the feel of her hand brushing his pale cheek, and Loki knew he was safe again. His mother held the boy close in her arms, and he could feel the beat of her heart, whispering into his ear the secrets of her love for him. As he closed his eyes, she began to sing.

* * *

The familiar words, hummed in such an innocent voice, soothed the boy's troubled thoughts for a moment. In the garden, the tiny figure turned. Caught in the light, Loki saw for the first time the girl's face.

_Aila._

For one terrifying moment, Loki truly thought that she had seen him. But, as a gentle breeze blew through the leaves, Aila turned away, and continued down the garden path. All too soon, her light footsteps and soft words were consumed by the darkness. And Loki was alone once more.

_Pathetic boy. Hiding from a child. _

Loki closed his eyes. The all-too familiar voice hissed around his mind, blurring his vision, and causing his ears to ring painfully.

_Or were you hiding from me?_

At this, Loki eyes shot open. Anger, hot and heavy within his stomach, burned his throat and turned the blood that flowed through his veins.

"No," he snarled, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, "not of you. Never of you."

_We will see._

* * *

"_Mother... the monsters, t-they're c-coming..."_

"_Hush." His mother whispers, her gentle hands soft upon his small back. "Hush my darling boy. You are safe, my child. Safe and sound."_

_Loki holds tight to her body, his eyes shut tight against the darkness that threatens to swallow him. Just as he thinks he cannot hold back his cry any longer, his mother begins to whisper against his ear._

_And my heart _

_Cannot be__  
__Kindled without you__  
__Your heart will_

_Kindle my heart_

_And he is still._

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews make me grin!**


	5. A Lapse Of Reason

**Hey guys. I'm not sure about this chapter, but I hope you like it, anyhow. I just want to thank all those who have followed, favourited and reviewed this story thus far. Thanks heaps!**

**Sparki: I own nothing!**

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The blade was heavy in his hands. As Loki gazed down at its exquisite form, the afternoon's sunlight caught its steely face. The beam of burning white it reflected, for a short moment, left him blind.

Slowly, his sight returned, and his surroundings began to once again resemble the training ring. Sighing, Loki risked another glance down at his weapon.

It was beautiful; there was no disputing this simple fact. As little children, the princes had often found themselves hiding within Asgard's forges, watching, wide-eyed, as the blacksmiths turned hunks and chunks of dull metal into swords and shields that shone like the purest of gold.

And yet, in all his childhood ventures, the youngest prince was yet to lay eyes on a piece as fine as the sword he now grasped in his hands. Loki could not help but wonder how it was his brother had come to acquire such a weapon for a mere training scuffle. What he lacked in combat prowess, he made up for in knowledge, and Loki knew this sword was not of Asgard. No, mastery such as this could only be found deep within the forges of Nidavellir. It was no secret that the dwarves were the finest craftsmen of the Nine Realms. This blade was no exception.

But even his weapon, splendid though it may be, would make Loki no match for his brother. He studied the older boy as he stood across the arena, twirling his own blade expertly with an air of growing impatience. Loki grimaced at the rival sword's sharpened edge.

He hated combat training, and he especially hated sword craft. It was not his forte, this close-range engagement. No, if ever trouble should reach the stronghold of Asgard, Loki would face it from afar, with a carved bow in his grasp. If there was a way to win a fight without actually touching his opponent, Loki would tease and taunt, until his nimble mind discovered it. However, as he stood in the arena, face to face with Thor, surrounded by his father's warriors, and many of the Court's youth, Loki could see no way out.

He would fight.

_Come on, you sniveling coward! Raise your weapon!_

Loki closed his eyes, but did as commanded. As the hefty blade left the hefty blade left the dusty ground, its weight seemed to double, and the smaller boy stumbled.

"Whatever happened to training weapons?" he muttered, just loud enough for Thor to hear, scowling now at the magnificent sword he barely managed to hold aloft. A pair of simple iron blades would have sufficed. But perhaps, Thor wanted to show those watching that he was old enough to handle a more extravagant piece of equipment.

Loki, however, did not.

Across the arena, Thor's patience had finally run its course. With a deft flick of his wrists, the boy lifted his weapon. He brandished it before him, his expert stance a warning to any who might challenge him. Young as he was, Thor was no fool when it came to the art of war. He fixed his younger brother with a playful, yet somewhat steely gaze.

"Well, come on then!" Thor urged.

All novelty once found in the sword had faded, and was now nothing but a distant memory to Loki. He longed to discard the ridiculously festooned piece of polished metal, and abandon this mock battle, out of which he would surely emerge second-best.

All around them, the jeers and shouts of his brother's entourage grew louder. Loki felt small – smaller than he had in a long, long while. He would not win this battle. Of this, he was certain.

_You pathetic child! You have barely drawn sword, and already, you stand defeated. Will you truly give up so very easily? Foolish boy._

_Little boy._

Summoning every last shred of strength within him, Loki begged the voice to fall silence. It did, but he could feel the darkness boiling, hiding just below the surface, waiting to explode.

The chanting grew louder, and Loki's blade grew heavier. Yet with each passing moment, his brother's aura grew brighter, as he stood, basking in the glow of glory and attention. He rose taller, fuelled by the song and dance of those around them.

With a piercing cry of battle, Thor threw himself forward.

Startled, Loki had not the time to raise his sword before he took the first blow upon his arm. He was suddenly thankful for the armour his slender frame had been shackled into. Its dark metal took most of the jolt. But the force of impact still shook within the boy's arm. Indignant, he glared darkly at Thor. His brother simply smirked, and raised his weapon again.

"Come on, brother!" he laughed, oblivious to the fact that Loki's discomfort was no jest. "Don't just stand there!"

With shaking hands, Loki lifted the monstrous blade. Mustering as much power as he could manage, he swung at Thor, and then watched in dismay as his brother avoided the attack with ease. Then, with frightening accuracy, Thor struck out at him once more. This time, the blade caught him on the chest, and sent the younger boy sprawling miserably on the ground.

Gazing up at the cloudless sky, Loki wondered why he should bother getting up.

When a moment had passed, and his brother had still not regained his footing, Thor offered him a hand. But Loki shoved it away, with a spite he had known he possessed. Thor raised his golden brows in surprise, and took a step back. Somewhat abashed, Loki glanced up.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, but even then, his assurance was darker than he had intended. Without casting another glance at Thor, he rose to his feet, and reclaimed his blade.

On and on, over and over, again and again.

Loki attacked, but Thor was faster. Each time, the younger boy missed his mark, and his brother would bring his swiftly to his knees. Every move that Loki made, Thor had a sharp-tongued reply. With each passing moment, Loki watched as his brother grew more and more confident. His urges of 'Come on, brother!' manifested themselves into taunts.

"What was that, then?!" Thor shouted at Loki, his blue eyes bright with excitement. "You'd be dead in an instant! An instant, Loki! I could kill you in an instant!"

_An instant..._

And it was then, that it ended. Head lowered, eyes closed, Loki stood silently in the centre of the ring. The sword hung limp at his side. His only movement was the rise and fall of his ragged, yet mute, breathing.

_An instant. He could kill you in an instant. No... he would kill you in an instant._

"No."

_Yes. In an instant._

"No!"

When Loki opened his eyes, he saw his brother, lying upon his back in the dust. With a groan, Thor pulled himself to his feet. He stared at Loki, in surprise and the faintest tinge of amusement.

_He laughs at me._

The anger that filled his being burned so brightly, with such ferocity, that Loki himself was taken aback. After a moment, Thor gave his brother a smile.

"Well done, Loki!"

But Loki did not smile back.

Instead, he steadied himself, adjusting his grip on the blade, so that his hand rested close to the engraved hilt. It was a difficult task, when his hands were trembling so. But it was not from fear. No, it was the power that coursed, unbidden through his body, that caused him to shake so very violently.

_He could not kill me. Not in an instant. Even if he wanted to._

Thor charged. His cry sounded distant, but he ploughed towards Loki at a terrifying speed. To the surprise of all those who watched, Loki let the sword fall from his grasp. Thor blundered, his blue eyes wide with confusion. It was all Loki needed.

He leapt through the air, and struck his brother. Loki's blow collided with Thor's jaw. For an instant, time seemed to stand still. Loki saw the green glow of his power shining in his brother's frightened eyes. He should feel guilty; he knew he had gone too far. But all he felt was cold.

Thor hit the ground with a thud. The horrid sound echoed around the arena, shattering the silence into a million, indistinguishable little pieces.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

For what seemed an eternity, Thor's body lay in the dust. Loki watched his brother cautiously, secretly surprised at his own lack of concern. And then, Thor stirred.

With a moan of agony, the older boy dragged himself up. He sat in the dust, staring up at his little brother in wide-eyed, terrified shock. Loki felt the gruesome desire to laugh.

"_Sorry, brother,_" he sneered, "_but I don't want to play anymore._"

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"_Thor!"_

_The little boy screams his brother's name, his eyes shut tight against the darkness. "Thor! Help me! Please!"_

_Footsteps pound the cold floor, but the child can scarcely hear above the pounding of his own heart. In a blind panic, he screams again._

"_Help me!"_

"_Loki!" _

_Thor. His brother. The boy can feel his brother's arms around his shaking body, pulling him towards the slow beat of his heart. With a love the older boy has never felt for another living soul, he run his shaking fingers through his brother's raven locks._

"_It's alright, Loki," he whispers. "You're safe."_

_For a long, long time, the two children sit together upon the vast bed, lost in each other's embrace. Try as it might, the darkness cannot touch them._

"_I love you, Loki. I will always love you, my brother."_

"_Always..."_

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Loki lay alone, shivering in his bed, weeping bitter, bitter tears.

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**Hope you guys liked it!**


	6. The Snake And The Servant

**Hey my lovely people, new chapter! Just a warning: at this point, our favourite underage Demi-god is slipping more and more into his own darkness, so apologies to those who find this chapter a little... odd. I own nothing!**

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The snake reared its tiny head, and stared at the boy with piercing eyes. Its slender body remained still, as though yet to gain full control of itself.

Sitting silently against the wall, Loki moved not a muscle, save for the rise and fall of his chest. The creature that stared back at him narrowed its cold eyes until they were nought but slits, and gave a single, sinister hiss. But it did not strike. It seemed that this monster, even in its infantile state, understood that the boy with whom it locked gazes could end its short life within an instant.

_And so I shall._

With a wave of his pale fingers, the snake crumbled, and fell away, back to the golden bowl from which it had sprung. It sunk, nothing more than a few droplets of water, rippling in the gentle breeze. With an exhausted sigh, Loki laid his head back against the garden's wall. The hard stone bit into his neck, but he didn't care.

He had succeeded.

It had taken all his strength, and had lived but a moment; but the fact remained, that it had lived. Despite his fatigue, the boy smiled.

_I have done it._

The magic unleashed that day against his brother was uncontrolled, conjured by a powerful burst of burning anger, meant only to destroy. It was dangerous, but ever-shifting and short lived. But Loki had watched the tiny serpentine beast, and had stared into its hollow eyes. In those watery depths, he had seen reflected the hatred he had felt that day as Thor had mocked him, and the power he'd craved as he struck that first blow.

_My anger may be dangerous. But my patience is lethal._

Magic was dark; magic was evil. Magic was unwanted, frowned upon by the Aesir, feared by the people of Asgard. But magic was Loki. This magic, the ever-burning flame of wonder and unbridled power, the boy now understood, was his very essence.

All his life, he had been the second. His name, always and only, followed by another's; Second Son of Odin, Brother of Thor, Prince of Asgard. Chastened, Loki let his eyes fall shut. He could feel tears, unwanted droplets of fear and sorrow, anger and disappointment, threatening to push their way past his hardened exterior.

_Hardened exterior. _He gave a small, mirthless chuckle. _Why am I hardened?_ He could not help but wonder. _Why do I need to hide?_ For a moment, his head swam, a wave of dizziness threatening to overtake his being.

_Why do I need to hide? Why should I be anything other than what I am?_

_Because what you are, is wrong. What you are is a foul, evil being, worthy only to wallow and drown in the darkness of your own heart. _

"No..." Loki moaned, his eyes smarting, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "No... i-it's not t-true..."

_Eoten._

_Monster._

"No!"

His shaking hands flew to his ears, trying to silence the loathed voice, trying to block out the venomous words. But how could he banish something that lurked within.

Something... something that was a part of him.

_Eoten, monster. I am a monster._

His entire body shuddering, Loki pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his head in his arms. Unconsciously, he allowed himself to rock back and forth, back and forth. The soothing rhythm, for a short moment, stilled his racing heart. But the fear would not lie down. Finally, the boy gave a great sob, and the first tears fell.

"W-What... why... what's w-wrong... w-with me?" he cried, his broken voice desperately reaching out into the great silence of the garden. His shoulders shaking with barely suppressed anguish, he searched for an answer - any answer at all. He prayed that he would find it, hiding among the ferns and flowers. But he found nothing, save for the frightened face of the young maid.

Ashamed at his tears, angry at the girl for disturbing his solitude, Loki leapt to his feet. Terrified, the maid took a step back. Seeing her fear, the maddened boy growled.

_She fears me..._

_Yes. Because you are a monster._

"I-I'm so... so sorry, M-My Lord," the girl stammered, retreating further away from Loki's smouldering fury. "I didn't k-know that you were here." Desperately, she glanced around. "I... I didn't know anyone was here."

Where he stood, Loki studied the girl. Her eyes, wide and wary, stared back at him, her slender legs poised to flee at any sign of danger. Ever so slowly, the boy released a long, laden breath he'd not realised he'd been holding.

"A-Aila..." His voice sounded weak, strange, even to his own ears. But the maid looked up, with an expression that wavered somewhere between lingering fear and bewilderment. Loki returned her startled gaze, his emerald eyes mournful. "That... that is your name, isn't it?" Despite herself, the girl nodded slowly.

"Y-Yes, My Lord."

Loki's legs suddenly felt so very weak. Placing one hand upon the rough stone, the boy let his body slip to the ground. Sitting alone, once more against the wall, he watched Aila as she continued to linger, staring at him. Unbidden, he felt a blush paint his pale cheeks. Loki lowered his face.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Aila," he murmured. The girl let out a gasp.

_No!_

His face safely hidden from the maid's view, Loki winced, but paid the darkness no heed. "I'm sorry," he breathed again. "I'm just... tired." His head remained lowered. The grass beneath his gaze suddenly seemed so very green. With a shaking finger, he reached down and stroked a single brazen blade. It curled weakly beneath his touch.

Such a simple, little thing. But, at the same time, so very beautiful.

"I-I'm sorry!" At the sound of the girl flee, Loki glanced up from the wonderings. For a moment, he had the strangest urge to call out her name, to bring her back to his side.

He didn't want to be alone.

_You will always be alone._

Loki closed his eyes.

_I know._

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**I really hope you all enjoyed this one, because I'm not certain about it. I'm half asleep at this point, but oh well : ) Please read on –there's more madness to come! **


	7. Why Do You Love Me?

**Hey lovelies. This is quite possibly the strangest installment yet to grace this story. Sorry!**

**I own nothing!**

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"You," Loki hissed. The darkness smiled.

_You,_ it smiled in reply, the slightest hint of irony tainting its silver-tipped words.

Loki screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Nothing, nothing, could have silenced him. Not when the darkness, with its burning eyes and sickening familiar smile loomed over him, running its icy hands through his matted hair. Its wraith-like fingers stroked his pale face, and its touch scalded his skin.

He couldn't see. The blackness within his mind grew deeper and darker, pulling him to a place, so far away from any light, any warmth, the boy feared he would never find his way back again. The ice gripped his throat, threatening to strangle him. His voice grew hoarse, faint, and yet on and on he screamed. Through the murk, he saw himself, doubled over upon his bed, alone and freezing. His slender arms, thin and brittle, gripped at his stomach, his nails leaving crescent indentations in his pale skin. Scarlet trails, red and raw, ran down his side. Blind-eyed, he raised his head.

"Do you see?" he gasped, hysteria rising through his chest. "I bleed! I bleed!" His head fell back again, sickening chuckle wracking his body. The darkness, as it stood before him, threw back its head, echoing the boy's maddened laughter with terrifying accuracy.

_Yes, _it hissed, _you do bleed. _Loki felt the darkness grip his wrist, tearing his fingers away from his savaged skin. With hollow, haunted eyes, it inspected the blood, caked beneath his nails. It touched the tip of its tongue to the droplets that clung desperately to Loki's palm. The boy shuddered, revolted, but found he was unable to pull away. He found he could no longer move. He could do nothing, but scream, on and on and on and on and on.

The darkness cackled.

_Scream, little monster! _Its grotesquely youthful features twisted into a snarl. _No one will hear you!_

But its taunts fell on deaf ears, for Loki's sanity had deserted him, and his mind had fallen into despair.

And still, he screamed.

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The bed beneath his shuddering body shook, as he brought his fist down again and again. For the first time in his life – such a very long time, it seemed – Loki wished he would simply stop breathing. For then, perhaps, the screaming would cease. The sound, so full of sorrow, so full of pain, terrified the boy. But he could not silence his anguish.

"Loki!"

In desperation, he buried his face in the bed clothes. The soft material smothered his pleas.

"Loki!"

"No!" he cried, gripping the silk, so desperately it began to tear within his grasp. "No! Leave me! Leave me alone!"

"Loki! LOKI!"

_Loki..._

He felt arms encircling his convulsing frame. Terror threatening to choke him, he lashed out at the creature, dragging his bloodied nails through whatever they could scratch. In hands, much softer than his own, his slender wrists become enveloped. He tried to pull away, but those arms, so strong, drew him towards a warmth – a warmth that, in the depths of his despair, Loki feared he would never feel again. Crumbling, he let his head fall against that warmth.

"Why... w-why don't you h-hate me?" he choked. He felt his brother's fingers fall in gentle circles upon his shaking back. In desperation, Loki gripped Thor's arms, holding on with all his might, afraid to let the older boy go. "Why don't you?"

He heard Thor sigh.

"You are my brother, Loki. My dearest friend." His brother's voice, although shaken, was sincere. "I love you, my brother."

With a resounding cry, Loki threw his arms around Thor's neck. Without another word, Thor wrapped the younger boy in an embrace, the likes of which they had not shared since that night, so long ago, when Loki had once again, awoken, choking on his screams.

_Why? WHY? WHY?_

_Why do you love me? Why don't you hate me? Why don't you fear me?  
_

_Why do you love me?_

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**Did I mention, it was also the shortest? I hope you enjoyed it : )**


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